Fix You (Loki Romance)

Chapter 22

Day Seven

"Write about the texture of hope." Flipping through a small notebook of ideas and writing prompts Ebony found and collected, Loki paused. He glanced up, staring at her in the grey light of early morning. Her hair was still braided from the night before when he decided he wanted to try something new with the thick bands of black that were so often pulled back and tied out of her face.

Her hands were curled on the sheets; her body was curved towards him. She sighed in her sleep.

Reaching out, hesitant to wake her, Loki let his fingers skim through the wisps of hair at the top of her head.

Write about the texture of hope.

His hope was... Soft. No, that wasn't right. She was like a warm bed after a long and exhausting day. Like the touch of snowflakes, seconds before they melt. Like the press of lips in the early morning, waking him from where he floated around the edges of sleep.

Her eyes fluttered open, settling on him immediately. She smiled sleepily, pushing herself up just enough to touch his lips with hers. She hummed and laid back down, closing her eyes.

The bleeding in his back had started up again. It soaked through his shirt and trousers and was dripping onto the floor. The creature that stalked the room was lapping it up.

His legs were strapped to the wall. The cut one throbbed like his back but it was less of a burning pain. He hadn't eaten since Thanos had gone to work on his leg. He hadn't been let down. The pain was the only thing allowing him to still feel his leg. There had only been silence. He slept when he could.

After every dream of Ebony came nightmares that made the tower echo with his screams. And in the space between dreams and nightmares, he could do nothing but remember to breathe. He had no more tears left. There was no energy left to do more than breathe. His chest was tight, as if the weight of his shoulders had settled onto his breast.

Floating through the space between nightmares and dreams that were almost as painful, Loki began to descend into sleep again. The door opened. He pried his eyes open, rolling his head slowly to see who had come. The bones in his neck cracked with the strain.

The Other lowered him to the floor. He unstrapped the chains and let Loki collapse onto the unforgiving stones. Kneeling, he slid an arm under Loki's neck and levered him upwards.

"Drink." He murmured.

Opening his mouth, Loki could do no more than let the water slide down his throat. The bitter wine followed. He knew now that it was an important part of Thanos' plan. It's role he had yet to decipher. The Other lowered him again and rolled him onto his stomach. Loki tried to speak but it came out as a groan. Trying again, he managed a semblance of the word food.

The Other cut his shirt off and gently pressed cloths to the cuts. "I am allowed only to mend you and provide you water. I am sorry."

Loki was about to plead again. Now that The Other's gentle magic was soothing his pain, he could feel the hollowness in his stomach. Silently, a hunk of bread was pressed to his lips.

"If I could sneak some to you I would." The Other murmured as he pushed it into Loki's mouth. Grateful beyond words, Loki chewed it slowly. For the first time in days he felt saliva in his mouth again. His parched, swollen tongue worked the bread into his throat where it plunked down into his stomach. Another was nudged into his hand without a word.

"I cannot give you stitches on your back."

Loki nodded and swallowed the bread. "They'll open again, I know." Silence settled between them until The Other moved on to Loki's leg. "I dislike calling you Other." He murmured. "Give me your name."